A Woman Made for Sin (37 page)

Without another word, the man walked out of Six Belles, leaving the runner to follow.
He never looked back.

And not once did he ever mention a green and white pinnace.

Edward crouched low into the shadows and watched Chase enter the tavern. Tagging along
was the Bow Street runner he had hired.

Edward had not expected locating the maps to be difficult. In truth, he had thought
to find them all in one place at the office. His initial plan had been to take them,
use them, and return to Society, not as the broken man he was, but transformed into
a man with unmeasured power. And yet, despite all his efforts, he still had only four
of the nine maps. He needed the others and had resolved that it would take time to
locate and procure them. But a week ago, fate had offered him another solution.

The first time Chaselton had hired Randall Greery, it had been to find him—the elusive
thief. Evading the runner had been more difficult due to his current physical condition,
but not impossible. When Greery was hired for a second time, Edward surmised he was
again the target, but could not comprehend why the runners were focusing their efforts
on the London Docks.

A puzzle Edward was determined to solve, he decided to conduct his own inquiries.
Greery was honest and loyal to Chaselton, but one of the younger men the runner had
hired to help was not as scrupulous. When cornered, he had revealed everything he
knew for a single quid.

Edward had nearly laughed out loud upon learning who the runners were after. Not him—the
mysterious thief—and not pathetic Aimee, but the very woman who had turned his life
into a living hell. The runners were unfamiliar with the woman they sought, but Edward
was intimately familiar with the woman in the portrait.

He savored the idea of Lady Chaselton running away. Shunned by her perfect husband,
she had disappeared to one of the most dangerous places in London to look for her
simpering, foolish friend.

Pulling back farther into the shadows, Edward waited to see if his one-time protégé
had found his beloved wife. Several minutes later, Edward had his answer. Chaselton
had left unaccompanied. Edward sighed in relief. He still had time.

Chaselton had no doubt bribed the people and the owner for information. The working
poor were often misunderstood and the titled too often thought that all things in
life could be purchased with enough coin. Most failed to realize respect was something
that had no price and therefore could belong to any man. The small, beautiful hellion
must have earned the loyalty of those inside. Chaselton failed to understand that
he was not buying information, but their self-respect—something that was not for sale.

Edward would not make the same mistake.

He would wait no longer. If chance refused to offer him the opportunity for retribution,
he would just have to create one. A face-to-face meeting with Lady Chaselton was long
overdue.

Meanwhile, it was enjoyable seeing Chaselton in a near state of panic. To those who
passed by, the marquess looked cold and distant, but Edward had trained the man to
be a spy. He had honed the marquess’s skills and taught him how to mask his emotions.
Edward knew by the length of Chaselton’s gait, the clip of his heels, and the hardness
of his jaw, just what deep emotions truly ran through the marquess.

Fear.

And Edward could hardly wait to use the overwhelming love behind that fear to his
advantage.

November 12, 1816

Aimee stopped midstride, pivoted, and came back to the man who had just spoken. “Can
you please repeat what you just said?” she asked, trying hard to appear only casually
interested, though her heart was pounding.

For the past six days, she had thought herself either ready for Bedlam or close to
it. Whenever she was alone, she had heard the whisper of Reece’s name. Even at night,
as she tried to sleep, it was as if her pillow came alive, reminding her of who she
had left behind. To make matters worse, the whispers had been in his husky voice.

One morning she had woken up with a quill in her hand and his name scribbled multiple
times on a piece of paper next to her bed. That had shaken her to her core, so much
that she had finally agreed to let Mrs. Shay introduce her to the
Sea Rebel
’s chief mate, Mr. Haskin. Up close the man was even better-looking than from afar,
which was not something Aimee could say about most men. He had midnight-black hair,
strong cheekbones, and his eyes were an unusual color of blue, reminding her of the
lighter hues of a shallow sea.

At first, the evening had been surprisingly enjoyable. The four of them had sat down
to dinner and the first course was served. The soup was very good, though it lacked
JP’s scrumptious flavor. Then, just before the second course, Mrs. Shay professed
a headache and requested her husband’s assistance, leaving Aimee alone with Mr. Haskin.
The idea of eating with an unmarried man was unheard of in London, and Aimee had almost
risen to her feet to follow the captain. But the memory of the voices and note caused
her to remain seated. She had requested a distraction and Mrs. Shay had provided one.
Besides, Aimee thought, after all she had done, what was the harm in breaking one
more rule of propriety?

Thankfully, Mr. Haskin had agreed to stay as well, and soon they were engaged in pleasant
conversation. Unfortunately, the man must have consumed something that disagreed with
him, for the room had begun to reek of rotten eggs. Aimee remembered looking at him,
trying in vain to think of something to say to put him at his ease. His expression
said that he was trying to do the same, but was equally unsuccessful. As with all
human smells, the odor had eventually dissipated and they tried to resume their previous
discussion. Then, the smell returned. The third time, Mr. Haskin politely excused
himself, to Aimee’s relief.

When he approached her on deck the next afternoon, she had been glad, for one bad
night could happen to anyone. His hair was wet and slicked back and he smelled of
soap, hinting that he had just bathed. Aimee thought the gesture extremely flattering,
as she knew sailors washed themselves only when it became necessary. It was nice to
know a man considered she warranted such an effort.

Again, their conversation was interrupted prematurely when Mr. Haskin began to twitch.
It had started with his shoulders moving as if he had an itch in the middle of his
back. Soon after, he was rubbing his legs. He kept shifting his weight in such a way
that if he were a little boy, Aimee would have asked him if he needed to be excused
to the privy. Instead, she suggested they sit on a nearby bench, and Mr. Haskin hastily
agreed. But being seated offered no more relief. If anything, it was even more uncomfortable
to watch him rock back and forth with his hands fiercely gripping his legs. Then,
without warning, he had stood up, quickly bowed, and began to scratch himself all
over as he disappeared below the main deck, shouting for someone to get him some water.

She had not seen Mr. Haskin since, and the incidents that had incited her original
request for distraction had only grown from annoying to worrisome. The worst was just
moments ago.

She had been standing out of the way at the back of the ship on the poop deck, watching
the crew work, when an eerily familiar blue scarf caught her eye. The man was near
the forecastle, securing the ship’s bell on the belfry. Being so far away, it was
hard to see just who it was, but before she could even get halfway across the main
deck to call out for him to wait, the seaman had disappeared below. Disheartened,
she turned back to resume her earlier, unobtrusive position.

That was when she heard a nearby seaman say something to a fellow sailor that made
sense of every incident, every whisper,
every single odd thing
that had happened to her.

“Miss?” the lanky sailor asked when she approached them. His brows were up and his
hazel eyes stared at her with concern.

Normally, Aimee would have assured him there was nothing to be distressed about, but
her mind was focused on only one thing. “Please repeat what you just told this gentleman
as I was passing by.”

The second sailor froze, and his eyes twitched, wondering just what they had said
to upset her. After a moment of hesitation, he licked his lips and said, “Goodfellow,
here, um, well, he just mentioned that Friers really likes the blue scarf the new
guy gave him.”

Aimee stared hard at both men. “Please describe this scarf for me.”

“That wasn’t you?” Haskin asked, his tone one of disbelief.

Aimee looked horrified for a second at the thought of ever being able to produce such
a foul odor. Then she broke into laughter. “No! I assure you that, well . . . I thought
it was you!”

“Bloody hell,” Haskin said under his breath. “What you must have thought. I tried,
Miss Wentworth, I did try to be a gentleman and stay. I kept waiting and, well, hoping,
that you would excuse yourself, but finally I could stand the smell no more and had
to leave.”

Aimee rubbed the back of her neck. “I am so glad that you did. Not until you left
did our prankster stop and leave me to finish my meal in peace.”

Haskin wiggled the note in his hand and asked, “I understand why you would want to
tell me in private, but why did your missive include instructions on how you wanted
me to get here? There are easier ways to get to the cuddy than via my bosun’s cabin
and the council chamber.”

“The cuddy was the only place on the ship I was sure we would not be overheard.”

Haskin crinkled his dark brows, still not understanding. “The captain’s stateroom
is below us, and from here we can see who comes and goes on the deck above. I can
assure you we are alone.”

“And that is why it is safe for us to speak. No one will be introducing foul smells
through the floors below us.”

Haskin cocked his head and his turquoise-blue gaze increased in intensity. “So you
honestly think it was intentional?”

Aimee gave him an exasperated look. She needed Mr. Haskin’s help, and it was important
that he be just as committed to her plan as she was. “Do you normally fidget and squirm
around women as you did yesterday?”

Haskin scowled and Aimee knew he was finally starting to believe her. The man before
her was healthy, well trained, and possessed the power of self-control from years
of practice. It had to have been humiliating to act as he did, and she suspected few
men could have endured the discomfort for as long as he had.

“My clothes,” Haskin growled. “Something about them made me itch. I could not tell
what, and just assumed I had foolishly laid them on some powder or . . . are you telling
me
that
was intentional?”

Aimee repressed her desire to flash him a large smile and nodded. Mr. Haskin was hers.
“I am fairly certain I know who the culprit is and was hoping to elicit your help
in teaching him a lesson.”

Haskin’s eyes narrowed. “Tell me who he is and I will find him and then will be just
as creative when I discipline him, Miss Wentworth. I assure you nothing more will
happen to you on this ship.”

Aimee bit her inner cheek. She did not think Mr. Haskin would cause any permanent
harm or make Reece disappear, but the chief mate did believe it had been a low-ranked
crew member who had humiliated him. On a ship, such things could not be permitted.
And yet, Mr. Haskin had no idea she was referring to Reece—someone who may not be
his immediate employer, but his employer nonetheless. She knew very little of
Sea Rebel
’s chief mate, but she suspected that Mr. Haskin’s level of pride could rival Reece’s.
The man also had to be incredibly intelligent to have so quickly gained the respect
and admiration of Captain Shay. This did not bode well. Moreover, having Mr. Haskin
confront Reece was not what she wanted. Aimee fully intended on being the one to teach
Captain Reece Hamilton a lesson he more than deserved to learn.

“Mr. Haskin, I think that might not be the best way to resolve the situation. I was
hoping for a little bit of retaliation. Let him learn a lesson about what it is like
to be on the receiving end of one of these little pranks. I mean . . . you could always
do your disciplining later, could you not? It would mean a great deal to me to have
your support.”

Haskin crossed his arms and thought about it. “Normally I am not one who would encourage
any vengeful activity. It rarely leads to anything positive. But I do believe that
this is one of those rare times.”

The grin Aimee had been suppressing came to life. “I say we find out where he sleeps
and begin there.”

Haskin inhaled, finding himself once more ensnared by Aimee’s charms, and shook his
head. “Miss Wentworth, you look like an angel, but you have the cunning of an imp.
I cannot decide if I am appalled or if I rather like it.”

Aimee rocked onto her tippy toes and came back down, something she rarely did because
it accentuated her height. But she could not help it. Millie was always the one people
thought of as the imp. It was finally her turn to be the mischievous one.

November 14, 1816

Clive knew from the start that he should never have let Ellie convince him to hire
her. His world had been predictable a month ago. It had been comfortable, and not
once did he lie awake worrying about those he cared about. But that was before Ellie
Alwick. That was when he could look danger in the eye, assess the size, skill, and
weapons of the man, and attack him straight on. But now that he knew the danger hunting
Ellie was neither imaginary nor feeble, an awful feeling had begun to grow in his
gut. A feeling that said whoever was after her would stop at nothing and no one to
achieve his goal. And never could he remember feeling so helpless.

Part of him wished that he were the sort of man who could just cut her loose. It was
not as if the lass had provided an explanation for what that nobleman wanted from
her, nor ever planned to offer one. Clive knew Ellie thought she was protecting him,
Bessie, and everyone at Six Belles. So, if they needed protecting, then didn’t he
have every right to take one look at her when she walked in the door tonight and tell
her to turn around and never return? He did, but Clive knew that he would not . .
. could not do it. That left him few options, and continuing as he had been doing
the past few nights was becoming less and less a viable one.

The night the nobleman had come in looking for Ellie had changed things. When Devlin
returned after seeing her home, he had divulged some disturbing information.

Clive had known that Devlin was smitten with Ellie; half the men were. But lately
his mind had been more focused on the other half who were more than a little taken
with Bessie. So just as Devlin had been trailing Ellie home, Clive had begun following
Bessie, intent on protecting her from any drunken men who mistakenly believed the
women of Six Belles were available for some additional service. However, Clive had
not known about the runner or that Devlin was no longer content with staying in the
shadows—that he had been at her side until she reached her front door. Devlin did
not want to tell Ellie, but somebody was following her and he did not move like a
runner. After learning that, Clive made some decisions.

First was limiting those who entered his place to only men he knew. Almost all of
the clientele at Six Belles were regulars, so of all the changes, it was the least
difficult and cost him very little in the way of sales. Stopping in the middle of
the afternoon to go fetch Bessie and Ellie was an imposition, but as the women were
already together, it was not too big a burden.

At night, instead of accompanying each woman home individually, he and Devlin decided
to double their strength. Clive was at their side while Devlin lurked behind to see
who, if anyone, was following them.

The first night had been uneventful. A couple of runners skulked in the shadows, but
they left them alone. Ellie had worn her cloak with the hood, and looked down as much
as possible to hide her face. She was being unusually quiet, and Clive had caught
her fingering something in her pocket. When he asked what it was, Ellie had pulled
out an object just far enough for him to see that it was a gun.

“Why are ye carrying something dangerous like that?” he had half whispered, half barked
in shock.

Ellie stopped, looked up at him, and said simply, “Because someone is following me.”

Clive waved his hand at the nearly deserted streets and buildings surrounding them.
“If they are, lass, they cannot harm ye. Not with Devlin and I close at hand.”

Ellie had given him a look of appreciation, but she had not been totally convinced.
He should have taken that as a warning, but instead he had dismissed her concerns.
“’Tis a small little weapon ye have there. Do ye even know how tae shoot?”

Ellie resumed walking and said in a low, deadpan voice, “With deadly accuracy.”

It was not a boast, and consequently Clive had not doubted her. It only added to his
curiosity about her. He should have been more concerned with why Ellie was so nervous
with two men to guard her and a gun that she felt comfortable using.

But the second night, Clive learned that Devlin’s and Ellie’s fears were not as unfounded
as he had initially believed. The runners were there as before, but there was also
someone far more stealthy, sliding in and out of the shadows. Every time Devlin neared,
the lurker would slip out of sight. The only two things Devlin could discern were
that the man was of average height and extremely nimble despite a slight limp.

Last night, he had followed them again, but this time the runners had as well, and
maneuvered the shadowy figure into a trap. But when Devlin had gone to see who the
culprit was, he discovered that it was not the shadow who had been caught; it was
the shadow who had caught one of the runners. And the runner had been beaten severely
by a master in the arts of combat, for no normal man or soldier could cause such damage
in such a short amount of time.

It was when Devlin had relayed this latest news that Clive knew that he could not
continue doing nothing. Walking the women home, waiting for an attack that he could
not prepare for, was not an option. Neither was remaining vulnerable.

But most of all, Clive was done with being ignorant. It was time everyone in their
small group started talking.

“I’ve just done something I’ve never done before,” Clive began, “so make it worthwhile.”

A crash of thunder exploded outside just as Clive finished. Millie swallowed. The
moment Devlin arrived, Clive had made everyone stop drinking and leave Six Belles.
It had cost him in doing so, because he did not make one of them pay for their drinks,
even though some had finished at least one mug of ale and were working on their second
or even third round.

“Every one of us is keeping secrets, and while I normally hold firm tae keeping information
tae oneself, a man nearly died last night and it could have been any one of us.”

Devlin waved his hand toward his chair at the hearth. Clive nodded and the four of
them went and sat down in a semicircle. “Where do you want to begin?” Devlin asked.

Clive had thought his friend would volunteer to be first, as the man was the most
eager to protect Ellie, but then realized that was the very reason Devlin would
not
go first.

“It’s me tavern, so I’ll speak me peace first,” Clive offered, just before lightning
lit up the sky. He waited until the thunder subsided before continuing. “I’ve been
keeping what I know tae meself for yer benefit,” he directed at Millie. “I had hoped
that whatever problems ye had when ye came here would go away with some time. That
was when I thought ye just needed tae learn tae believe in yerself and realize that
whoever forced ye in tae this kind of life was not someone ye should ever go back
tae.”

Millie was about to come to Chase’s defense when Clive raised his hand. “I’ve come
tae believe now that my supposition was wrong. I think ye chose tae come here. And
in doing so, ye brought danger with ye.”

Millie shook her head no. “I did not. I swear I did not.”

Devlin shrugged his shoulders and pulled his ankle onto his knee. “Not intentionally,
but obviously you are not the only one interested in this green and white pinnace.”

Millie’s mouth gaped open for several seconds. Then her brilliant eyes turned dark.
“Do you
know
who owns it? Have you known all along?”

Clive coughed. “Not all along. I only found out after Bessie started helping ye. Whatever
trouble ye were in, I wasn’t going tae let it touch her just because she felt an obligation
tae ye.”

Bessie said nothing. But with her crossed arms and piercing blue eyes, she did not
need to. Clive ignored her and continued. “It belongs tae a ship called the
Sea Emerald
.”

Millie gasped and her hand flew to her mouth. Tears sprang from her eyes. “She’s
safe
!” she whispered. “Thank the Lord, she will come home unharmed.” Then, though she
tried not to, Millie broke down in tears, crying into her hands with obvious joy and
relief.

Devlin and Clive just stared at her in astonishment. Bessie, with the benefit of having
overheard Ellie’s and Evette’s conversation, was just as surprised by her friend’s
abrupt reaction, but not as confused as to the reason why. “Your best friend was on
that pinnace, wasn’t she? That’s why you’re here. To learn what ship she got on.”

Millie nodded, wiping her eyes. “Since we were kids, Aimee, Jennelle, and I were never
content to stay home and be proper. We were out looking for a thief when she was abducted
by some men in a green and white pinnace.”

Devlin’s mind was spinning. “Who’s Jennelle?”

Millie nodded. “She was with us. People call us the Daring Three. I always thought
it a compliment and sought out ways to look for adventure.”

Devlin rolled his eyes, chiding himself for not realizing it sooner. A noblewoman
who
enjoyed
adventures. How else could she have made it this long working at Six Belles? “And
the nobleman who was looking for you?”

Millie licked her lips and brushed away tears, despite the fact that new ones kept
falling. “He’s Aimee’s brother,” she said, trying to be honest while protecting her
husband’s name. “He blames me and he should. Aimee would never have gone if I had
not agreed to go with her.”

“So it was her idea?” Devlin prodded.

“Yes, but . . .”

Clive threw his hand up. It was nice to know why Ellie was there and that it truly
was not for nefarious reasons, but nothing she had divulged explained just why a dangerous
man was following her. “You mentioned a thief,” he prompted.

“Yes. Nothing very serious. The man was taking insignificant items. Aimee’s brother
actually thought it might be his friend playing a practical joke. We discovered it
wasn’t when we snuck aboard and saw the thief sneaking off the ship.”

“Do ye think that man saw ye? Recognized ye?” Clive impatiently probed.

Millie shook her head. “I don’t see how. We were hidden the whole time. And even if
he did, he could see us no better than we could him. And I could only tell you his
height and that he had a slight limp.”

Clive immediately turned to look at Devlin, who stared back. Thunder again cracked
overhead, filling the silence. Then Clive shifted his gaze to Millie. “I don’t know
how, but I’ll bet a week’s earnings that whoever ye saw that night knows ye work here.”

Millie’s heart stopped. Fear had been her companion for days now, despite her constantly
telling herself that she was being ridiculous. “What do you mean?”

“When I was walking ye and Bessie home, Devlin followed us.” Both women’s eyes grew
wide and settled on Devlin in surprise.

Devlin returned Millie’s pointed gaze. “Clive and I expected your friend’s brother
to send some Bow Street runners to determine just who you are. We were right. But
there was another person among them, and last night he nearly killed one of the runners
for interfering. I have no doubt that this thief of yours is going to try again.”

Millie rose to her feet. “Then I have to go. If I remain here, everyone is in danger.”

“Why is he after you? Just what did you see?”

“Nothing. I . . . I . . . took something he dropped. He must think I still have it,
but I do not. I swear.” Millie moved over to Clive and looked him in the eye. “Are
you
sure
the pinnace belonged to the
Sea Emerald
?”

Clive nodded his head. “It left for America on a scheduled trip and is expected back
next week or the week after.”

Unconsciously, she reached out and gripped his hand. “Thank you.”

Bessie heard the finality in Millie’s voice and leaned forward to catch her arm. “You
cannot be thinkin’ of leavin’.”

“I must.”

“Whoever this man is, he’s after you. Just where do you plan on goin’?”

Millie stood there and stared for several long seconds at Bessie and then Clive and
Devlin. She had money and that meant she had options. But she knew that she was never
going to be able to leave there tonight unless they agreed she was in a position to
protect herself on her own. “It is time I told you who I really am.”

“A real marchioness?” Bessie hissed. She had come to doubt her theory of Ellie being
a cast-out mistress, but it still seemed more plausible than the explanation she had
just heard. “And I suppose your father’s a powerful duke,” she added under her breath.

“Actually he’s an earl,” Millie quipped defensively. Then immediately wished she had
not and knelt down beside Bessie’s chair. “You’ve always been correct in believing
that I came from a life far different from the one here. I wish every governess I
ever had could have seen you teach me some of the lessons I learned under your . .
. style of tutoring.”

Bessie produced a small smile, but Millie knew the news of who she was would take
more time to digest. Even in her world of titled people and gentry, being married
to a marquess was no small thing. Millie glanced at Clive, who remained unmoved. She
knew his mind was whirling with all the repercussions of hiring a marchioness, and
no doubt feared that Chase would return and retaliate by ruining Clive’s business
and livelihood.

“I promise you the only person my husband will hold accountable for my being and working
here is me. And while he will threaten to be angry with me for the rest of his life,
as soon as he realizes that I am safe and was only here trying to correct the wrongs
I did, he will calm.”

Clive snorted, then stood up and went to pour himself a drink. “I should have known,”
he finally said. “As soon as he walked in and he held out yer portrait, I should have
known what could make a man like that afraid. I should have told him who ye were.”

Millie felt her heart clench with guilt. “If you had, then I would not be able to
tell him that his sister is safe and begin to mend what I did. You must understand,
the three of us—myself, his sister, and Jennelle—have never been content to follow
Society’s rigid rules.” She looked directly at Bessie. “Imagine never having any say
in what you do or with whom. That embroidery and gossip are the highlights of your
day. Work is deciding the evening menu and what outfits to wear. You have good food
and nice jewelry, but in return you must dance until your feet are swollen and sometimes
even bleeding when men stomp on them. You have to pretend to enjoy singing and playing
for others even if the sound of your voice makes them want to leave the room screaming.”